This Is Personal
by MiroTheCat
Summary: A moment between Snape and Barty Jr had me digging into both of their histories and whether they might have known each other in school. I found out more than I was expecting. Boys become men, families are dysfunctional, loyalties change. The Dark Lord is rising and no choice is without consequences.
1. Chapter 1

One in the morning and he'd only _just_ finished the readings for the rest of the first week of classes. Severus groaned and stuffed his books back in his bag. Limited sleep was _exactly_ what he needed with his first class of the morning being with the Gryffindors, namely the same group of idiots whose fault it was that he was up so late. He _would_ have had the reading done hours ago, but no, they just had to try and pull some stupid prank on him the night before that ended up with all six of them assigned detention before the Welcome Feast had even begun. Which had to be a new record.

At least Lily had been just as furious as him, Severus thought as he dropped his schoolbag in his trunk and crept back out of the room with his toiletry kit. It was some consolation that his best friend had aided him trying to defend himself first against his attackers and then against an angry Professor Kettleburn who didn't care who started it; he had loose creatures, some of them injured, and every student involved was going to pay for it. Pity he'd been paired up with Black for detention instead of Lily. (Why couldn't he be more like his brother? Not that they knew each other particularly well, being a year apart, but Reggie was an enjoyable enough opponent for the occasional game of chess in the common room.) The company was worse than the slimy old dungeon they were scrubbing out. Sartre was right; Hell _was_ other people.

Oh no. This wasn't good. Why was there a first year on the bathroom floor looking like death warmed over.

Sick first years were definitely not on the list of things that he wanted to be dealing with. He wasn't much of a people person, he was in a bad mood, and it was one in the damn morning. So of bloody course there would be a very ill first year on the bathroom floor when he was the only other student still awake in the Slytherin dormitory as far as he knew. Third year was not off to a good start.

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey." He held out a hand to the little boy, trying to keep resentment out of his voice. It probably wasn't his fault he was sick.

The boy shrank back, shaking his head rapidly. "No! Please. You can't tell. My father will be angry."

There was something about the look in the boy's eyes that made Severus's own array of mementos from his father throb in sympathy. "What d'you mean? Did he do something to you?" The boy tensed. Bingo. Severus retracted his hand and sat down on the floor. "I won't tell. Promise. Mine hits me too."

The boy looked down. "He's at the office too much of the time to hit me very often. He made me take pills though. Muggle ones. I hate them. I hate how they make me feel. I won't take them anymore. I WON'T. Not now I'm here and he's not here to force me."

Withdrawal. That made sense. Life with an alcoholic father meant that Severus was quite familiar with the misery of withdrawal. "What'd he do that for? Doesn't trust magic?"

"I'll have you know we are an old pureblood family." The boy tried to puff himself up but the effect was ruined by another round of muscle spasms.

"Meant no offense." Severus reached over and borrowed a cup left sitting on a sink by somebody. "Drink some water, your body will thank you for it."

His hands trembled so badly that Severus scooted over and helped him steady the cup. The boy allowed it.

"His reputation. It's all he cares about. Wants to be Minister. Can't have me reflecting poorly on him."

"Is he mad you were sorted in Slytherin?"

The boy shrugged. Severus wondered when the child had started leaning against him. "Hasn't said anything. Dunno if he even knows; he might be too busy at work to have noticed yet. That'd be awfully rich though, considering he was in Slytherin himself. Still, it's not like he mentions that if he can avoid it."

"I suppose in this case no news is good news. But you look exhausted and a cold tile floor is no place to sleep. If I have some calming draught in my trunk, would you be willing to take it? Our textbook mentions it helping with muscle spasms, and you need rest if you don't want the teachers noticing you're unwell." _As do I._

* * *

_I have deliberately left the first year's name out for the time being because I want to see you try to guess some things before I post the next chapter. Drop your answers in the comments, and I'll reveal the truth next chapter!_

_1\. Who is the first year?_

_2\. What real life person's story am I drawing inspiration from with ickle firstie and his father?_

_3\. What (category of) muggle drugs is he being forced to take?_

_4\. What detail in canon might have first made me think about that category of drugs, leading me to then think about WHY he might have taken them, leading me to remember the real person's story from which I drew inspiration?_


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't think I caught your name. I'm Barty."

Severus looked up. The first year from the night before had slid into the seat across from him, looking pale but functional enough to pass for a serious case of nerves. "Severus. Feeling a bit better then?"

"Definite improvement. Thanks for, y'know, last night."

Severus shrugged awkwardly. "It was the decent thing to do."

"Well, I appreciate it. I've decided to destroy the remaining pills tonight; I just need to think up an appropriately symbolic way to do it. Want to join me?"

Severus raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was an expression of responsible skepticism. "That sounds like a recipe for trouble but also immensely satisfying."

"So you're in?" Oh, but that rather felt like a dare.

"I don't know. Depends how much homework Binns assigns this afternoon."

"Is he bad about that? I have him right after lunch." Barty craned around to look at the head table. "Which one is he?"

"He's not up there. Doesn't eat anymore, seeing as he's a ghost. He's…a bit out of touch with the living sometimes."

"Who?" Regulus changed course to slide into the seat next to Barty instead of continuing further down the table. "Don't tell me I just lost a bet to the nerd king of the second year."

"Binns." Barty explained. "Severus was just telling me he's a ghost."

"Oh thank Merlin. Dirk Cresswell's convinced the new Defense teacher's a vampire. I've got twenty galleons on it; the school board would never let that go through." He shoveled a sandwich and chips onto his plate, then looked at Barty again. "I'm pretty sure I know you. Regulus Black."

"Barty Crouch."

"_Crouch_, yes, I think we _have_ met. Both our parents bring us along to ministry functions. You're the shy one whose father wouldn't let you play with us."

"Yeah, probably. Children should be seen and not heard and all that."

"We weren't _that_ bad." Regulus grinned a little ruefully as if remembering some incidents. "Of course, I don't recall your family at any of _our_ parties, so maybe it had more to do with politics."

"Almost definitely. That's my father, Mr. Politics." Barty made a face.

"If you ask me, us children are a valuable resource for forging alliances." Regulus told the younger boy. "We're going to inherit the titles and wizengamot seats and —"

"Awfully big pile of chips there, Black." An older student that Severus was pretty sure was one of the Higgs cousins clapped Regulus on the shoulder as he passed. "Gotta keep our seeker lean and mean, don't we?"

Regulus tensed and set his sandwich back down on his plate.

"You're on the Quiddich team?" Barty was suddenly entranced by him.

"Yeah. Pulled from the reserves late last season; I'm only a second year. You play?"

"That's wicked though! I'd _like_ to play. I think I'm an alright flyer."

"Tryouts are next Friday after class, if you want to give it a go. Got your own broom?"

"Not really." Barty grimaced. "I mean, we've got a few in the shed and those are what I learned on, but I don't have a _proper_ broom that's really mine. I do get an allowance though, as long as I can keep my father from finding out that's what I've spent it on."

"As opposed to what?" Severus tried to rejoin the conversation. He did _like_ Quiddich, even if he didn't have the fanatical obsession of some people. And he felt a certain responsibility to try to stay involved in the life of a fellow domestic abuse victim.

"Maybe books. I'm sure _socializing with valuable political contacts_, not that I'm sure when I'd spend money on that when we're confined to school grounds."

"Not until third year when you can go to Hogsmeade." Regulus told him. "Of course…" He looked at Severus appraisingly.

"…What?"

"You're a third year. If there's a secondhand bookshop, Barty could give you money to pick up some impressive sounding books for a fraction of their new price, use the remainder on a broom, and tell his father that he bought the books new by owl order."

* * *

_So yes, as people guessed, it's Barty Crouch Jr. Nobody quite got the rest, although some good arguments were made. I had the thought that the tic with his tongue that David Tennant invented for him could be interpreted as tardive dyskinesia, which is an (often life-long) effect of having taken first-generation antipsychotics. Which is what would have been available when he was a child. That led me to why the heck a young wizard would take such a thing, which led me to remember the real-life case of Rosemary Kennedy. And I can 100% see Crouch Sr. in her father's place! He absolutely would look at his child who was acting out and getting into trouble and have the thought process that that was dangerous to his precious reputation, so he should beat it out of him, but that would cut into his work time, so instead he should drug him into a docile little zombie who he can safely take to ministry events, but if he bought the potions there might be Rumors and brewing them would also cut into his work time, so why not try muggle drugs instead?_


End file.
